Wake up and promise me you won't leave
by KuroCyou
Summary: Bilbo came to a dead halt. His eyes widened in horror, air suddenly punched out of his Thorin lay prone on the blood drenched-ground, a spear-tip piercing his stomach, gashes and cuts on all the visible flesh. He didn't move, not at He was dead. AU Written for the Bagginshield Week, prompt "Dreams"


Hello! This is my first fanfic post in the Hobbit fandom, and also the first time I write in more than a year. Be gentle with me please . br

I wrote this in an hour for the Bagginshield Week on Tumblr, prompt "Dream". Actually I wanted to do a fancomic but I resolved to writing the idea instead. I may post some related art later. :3 br

I tried to describe the nightmare the way I experience them... so maybe it doesn't make much sense

* * *

All around him there was smoke, and dust (or it was snow?) and the stench of blood and steel and death. Bilbo stumbled forward, catching his balance just in time. His vision was clouded at the edges, he could not see well, he wondered why, confused. Why was he alone? There had to be someone beside him in that land... what was that land? A battlefield? Maybe.

Thorin must be somewhere near then, Bilbo somehow remembered he was with him not too long ago. He had to find Thorin, he resolved, he would know what to do.

The Hobbit hobbled around the field, his balance unsure. At some point, he noticed blood trickle down his forehead, he must have been hitten by something earlier...

He gasped. Elves. There were corpses of elves. And dwarves, and men. And orcs. Hundreds of them. This field was familiar after all...

Where was Thorin?

He needed to find him... he absolutely needed to find him _soon_.

Bilbo turned around, scanning the area. He called him, more than once. His own voice sounded so muffled though... he hardly could hear it. Why wasn't Thorin coming? He started to panick. And then it hit him.

He knew that field. He knew it because he _fought_ there.

The Battle of Five Armies

Thorin

He ran, stumbling, screaming Thorin's name desperately, even though his voice was so very distant, low as if he was underwater,_why couldn't he hear his voice_.

Bilbo came to a dead halt. His eyes widened in horror, air suddenly punched out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe anymore, not when a cold hand seemed to have took hold of his lungs and heart and made tears gather up in his eyes.

_No no no no no no no no no no no _

Thorin lay prone on the blood drenched-ground, a spear-tip piercing his stomach, gashes and cuts on all the visible flesh. He wasn't moving.

In a matter of seconds Bilbo found himself kneeled at the dwarf's side, shouting his name again and again (his voice _still_ muffled), frantically turning him on his back. He shook him, first gently and then more vigorously, tears rolling down his cheeks and landing on his face, stained with blood and dirt. His eyes were closed, but he was still alive, wasn't he? He only had to open his eyes. Why won't he open his eyes? He had to he couldn't be no no no no wake up wake up wake up I need you _wake up_

His body remained still. He wasn't going to wake.

Thorin was _dead_.

This time, when Bilbo screamed, his voice echoed all around the field.

* * *

_Wake up!_

* * *

"-ke up!"

With a gasp Bilbo opened his eyes wide to face the worried ones of a certain dwarf king. He felt his cheek wet with tears, and his heart pounded heavily in his chest. The hobbit stared at his husband, disoriented. He could feel the silk and the fur of their sheet under his hands, and their bedroom was faintly lit by the embers in the hearth. No snow, no blood.

"Th-" Bilbo swallowed, his throat dry "Thorin?". He was there, he was _alive_. The Battle of Five Armies happened months ago. He caught his breath, trying to calm the pang in his chest. Thorin's unbraided hair fell widely on his shoulders, his eyes sparkled in the dim light. Oh Valar, he was beautiful.

Thorin sighed in relief and gently caressed the Hobbit's hair and cheeks. "You scared me _Azyungel__, you were shaking and crying and I couldn't wake you up-" _

The sound of his low rumbling voice - _real, real **this **was real _- was enough to shatter every resolve Bilbo may had to keep calm. He hugged Thorin fiercely, burying his face in the dwarf's shoulder. He breathed his scent, felt the warmt around him, but he couldn't shake off the picture of the dwarf bloody and dead face from behind his eyelids, mixing with the more real memory of a pale, bruised skin wrapped in blood stained bandages in a healing tent.  
Thorin held him close as he shook, running an hand into his curls to soothe him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Thorin murmured in his ear when Bilbo calmed a bit.

He shook his head against his chest. "Can you promise me you won't go in battle ever again?" he croaked instead, the voice still filled with fear.

_Oh. That was then._

Thorin hesitated a moment, before placing a kiss on the Hobbit's forehead. "You know I can't promise you this, love" he said.

Bilbo shivered in his embrace "I know, I'm sorry it's...it's stupid from me-"

The dwarf cupped his face in his hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. "But I promise you this, Bilbo" he kissed him softly, and before Bilbo could respond, he drew away and touched his forehead with his husband's. "I'll _always_ come back to you."

And Bilbo believed him, and he smiled before claiming his lips once again.

* * *

Crappy ending is crappy.

Again, English is not my motherlanguage, so please be patient and if you spot mistakes please let me know and I'll fix them .


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